Secrets, Lies and Bullets
by Morivanim
Summary: Mrs. Hudson finally manages to rent out the basement flat, but the new occupants hold quite a few secrets. When those secrets come to light it could be Sherlock who gets caught in the cross hairs.  Sherlock/OC
1. Moving In

I own nothing.

Also any feed back would be great! Thanks!

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><p>John was exhausted. He and Sherlock had been in Wales for the past week on a case. Sherlock had not let him sleep, eat or even properly use a bathroom in that entire expanse of time, so the sight of 221 Baker Street had never made him happier.<p>

The taxi stopped and John leaped out as fast as his tired body would let him. Sherlock paid the cabbie as John opened the door already fantasizing about climbing those steps to flat B going directly to his room and falling asleep. His plans hit a small snag though as he turned the knob and tried to open the door, tried being the operative word. The door opened a small crack, and stuck. John pushed against the door but it hardly budged.

"Having trouble John?" Sherlock asked.

"It's stuck." John said pushing again.

"Here let me help." Sherlock said, moving to position himself next to John to help push. He was just as tired as John was, having gone past even his limits where sleep and food were concerned, and he too desperately wanted into their flat.

"1…2…3"

Both men pushed as hard as they could against the door and finally it moved. As they stumbled into the building they found exactly why the door had not moved. Covering nearly every inch of floor space of the entry way were boxes.

"What the hell?" John said. He and Sherlock stood in the doorway looking around in confusion.

"Oh boys, you're back!" It was Mrs. Hudson, coming from her own flat, a tray filled with tea for two balanced in her hands. "How was Wales?"

"Cold and wet." Sherlock answered still looking at the boxes, analyzing them.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson said.

There was the sudden sound of footsteps from the uninhabited flat C that brought everyone's attention. The door was open. Sherlock wondered how he had missed that.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson, you shouldn't have." The voice reached them before the owner came into view.

"Oh it was nothing; you two have been working so hard." Mrs. Hudson said handing off the tray in her hands, as the person she was talking to finally came into view. He was a tall man with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was very muscular, and smiled so charmingly at Mrs. Hudson that it took John clearing his throat to gather her attention again. "Oh yes!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "Charlie this is Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, they rent the flat just upstairs. Boys this is Charlie Drudge."

Charlie looked up and noticed the two men standing in the doorway surrounded by boxes. "Oh hi, sorry about the mess." He said putting the tray Mrs. Hudson had just given him down on a box near him then maneuvering himself so that he could reach and move some of the boxes near the stairs so that John and Sherlock could get up to their own home.

"Charlie's just rented the flat downstairs with his girlfriend." Mrs. Hudson continued. "They're coming round for supper tonight, will you be joining us?"

Charlie moved the last box in their way and John thanked him.

"Not tonight I don't think, Mrs. Hudson, we're both a bit worse for wear after our trip, perhaps another night." Sherlock answered her, before both he and John went up stairs to pass out.

"They seem nice." Charlie said to Mrs. Hudson as he made his way back to his door.

"Oh they are, well John is." Mrs. Hudson said with a smile before going back into her flat to start on dinner.

Charlie shook his head and picked up the tea Mrs. Hudson had given him and carefully made his way down the stairs. The flat was just as littered with boxes as the upstairs was.

"April?' He called out.

"I'm in the bedroom." Came an answering call.

"Mrs. Hudson made us tea." Charlie said placing the tray down on a small table in the corner of the room.

"That was nice of her." April said exiting the bedroom and walking over to Charlie. April was a good half a foot shorter than Charlie, and clearly kept in shape. She had long brown hair that was currently thrown up to stay out of her face as she worked.

"Yeah. Also I met our neighbors." Charlie said.

"Yeah? How are they? "April asked as she picked up one of the cups.

"Not sure yet didn't get to talk to them much. Two men in their thirties, one's a doctor, not sure what the other does." Charlie said and took a quick gulp out of the other cup.

"And their names?" April asked

"John Watson's the doctor, the other is Sherlock Holmes." Charlie told her.

"Sherlock Holmes?" She asked. Charlie nodded. "Any relation to Mycroft?"

Charlie looked up, he hadn't thought of that possibility. "Don't know. I'll do a search later and find out."

"You could just ask him." April said.

"No I couldn't." Charlie said.

"Why not?" April asked.

"Why would Mycroft Holmes associate with a personal trainer?" Charlie asked.

"Personal trainer? I thought you were with the police?"

"I haven't been on the force since Ireland." Charlie sighed, "Go re-read your file. I'm going to get a few more boxes."

April let out a frustrated groan, "You know if we could stop moving so often I'd be able to keep things straight."

"I'd be happy to stay put, all you need to do is keep your cover." Charlie told her before heading back up the stairs.

April put her cup of tea down and walked into the bedroom. She pushed the bed over and pulled up the corner of the carpet there revealing a small safe. April pulled a file out of the safe and leaned against the bed to read it, as she listened to Charlie go up and down the stairs. She would remember this time. She would be well this time. She wouldn't have to move again. These were the promises she made to herself. She only hoped she could keep them.


	2. Meeting

John didn't wake up until noon the next day. When he did he found he was starving. He went directly into the kitchen unfortunately what he found there was absolutely nothing edible. Groaning, John got dressed, grabbed his wallet and started to head out for groceries. He was halfway down the stairs when the door opened. A young woman in her late 20s walked in struggling with a bag in one hand and a table lamp in the other.

"Here let me help you with that." John said hurrying down the last of the steps, and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks. You must be from the flat upstairs. I'm April Wright." She said extending her hand.

"John Watson. You're Charlie's girlfriend then." He said shaking her hand and following her to her door.

"That I am." She opened the door and went downstairs, John followed. "I'm sorry about the mess." She said as they entered her flat, "Still moving everything in."

"This is nothing. You should see the mess Sherlock makes." John said placing the bag down on a table April pointed to.

"He's your flat mate right?" April asked.

"Yes."

April nodded. "I look forward to meeting him. Mrs. Hudson makes him out to be quite the character."

"Oh, he's definitely a character." John said with a smirk. "Well I've actually got to get to the shop."

"Thanks again for your help." April said, showing John to the door.

"What are neighbors for?" John told her heading back out the door.

When John left, April went to unpack the things she had gotten. John seemed like a nice enough man; Mrs. Hudson was certainly fond of him. The door to the bedroom opened and Charlie walked out in his shorts drying his hair with a towel.

"Did I hear you talking with someone?" He asked.

She sighed and continued putting things away. "Yes, our neighbor John helped me bring some things in."

"Alright." Charlie said putting his towel around his neck and taking a seat. "Mrs. Hudson asked us over for dinner again tonight." He told her.

"She did?"

"Yes. I told her we'd go." Charlie said. He didn't look very happy about it.

April smiled, "It's hard to say no to her isn't it?

"I'm fairly certain it's impossible."

"Good, that means I'll get to get out more here, even if it's only upstairs." April said.

"I suppose you will." Charlie placed his towel on the back of the chair, as his phone went off across the room.

"Looks like I might be a little late tonight." He told her reading over the text he had just gotten.

"Mycroft?" She asked already knowing."

"24 hour report." He responded. "He'll be excited to find out we're living under his brother, no doubt."

April huffed, "He probably already knows."

A few hours later Charlie left for his meeting and April was left alone. It was something that didn't happen often so she took the time to breathe. She laid down in the middle of the living room put in her head phones and shut her eyes. Around 6:30 April unplugged and got ready for dinner upstairs at Mrs. Hudson's.

When she arrived, John and another man, she guessed he was Sherlock, were already seated in Mrs. Hudson's sitting room.

"There you are dear, and where's Charlie." Mrs. Hudson asked taking an offered bottle of wine from April.

"He called; said orientation was running a bit late." April quickly explained.

"Oh dear, well let me make the introductions. " Mrs. Hudson said turning to the others in the room. "This is Dr. John Watson."

"We met this morning." April told Mrs. Hudson. "It's good to see you again John."

"You too" John replied.

Mrs. Hudson continued, "This is Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock stood to shake her hand.

"It's a pleasure Ms…" Sherlock said waiting for her full name to be given.

"Wright. April Wright." She said.

Sherlock's eyebrow raised, "Ms. Wright."

April smiled, "Please spare me the jokes I've heard them all." April took a seat and Mrs. Hudson ran off to the kitchen to uncork the bottle of wine. "Mrs. Hudson says you're a detective." April said in small talk.

"Consulting Detective." Sherlock clarified.

"Oh, I see." She said.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Hudson hasn't told us much about you." John said, "What is it you do?"

"I'm a temp." She said.

"Are you?" Sherlock asked, "And how do you manage that."

"Excuse me?" April asked confused by the question.

"Well you must do more than temp." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock…"John warned

"No, I'm afraid I'm just a temp."

Apparently Sherlock did not heed John's warning. "That's highly unlikely given your accent."

"Sherlock," John tried once more.

"American if I'm not mistaken. For you to live here you must either be a citizen or have a visa. Those with citizenship usually have harder to recognize accents meaning you're most likely here on a visa, work or student given your living situation. You've ruled out student, but temping isn't enough to get you a visa, so what, Ms. Wright is it that you do?"

April sat in shock for a moment. He had gotten all of that from her accent. She shook her head and answered. "I'm afraid I really am just a temp. I have dual citizenship. My father was English. We never visited his family; I didn't come to England until I was 20, never picked up the accent."

Sherlock searched her face for something that he apparently did not find. "My mistake then," He said.

The awkwardness that followed was thankfully cut short by Charlie finally making his arrival. The rest of the night went off just fine. Sherlock managed to stay on his leash heading most of John's warnings as they came throughout the night. April was surprised to find that Sherlock, although very calculating like his brother, was quite a bit more amiable than the elder Holmes.

Once they got back to their own flat Charlie went straight to the bathroom while April went to the kitchen to make some tea. Charlie emerged with a bottle of aspirin and gratefully accepted the tea from April.

"Was dinner that bad for you?" April asked.

"No, I've had the headache since my meeting." Charlie told her downing two tablets.

April took a deep breath and steeled herself. "What did Mycroft say?"

Charlie pulled himself up and sat on the counter, "Mostly the usual. Your detail will be the same. You'll be reporting to Christian in the temp office." April nodded, taking in the information. "Mycroft wasn't happy when he heard we'd moved into the same building as his brother. Apparently there's no surveillance upstairs, not in the building anyway, Sherlock disabled it all, just our apartment that's bugged now. It took a bit of convincing to get him to let us stay here when he heard."

"So he didn't know then?" April asked.

"No, they always keep a few things from each other. It keeps you safer." Charlie assured her.

April nodded. "Anything else I need to know?" she asked.

Charlie shook his head. "Just keep a low profile."

"Right, in that case going to bed" April said pouring her cup of untouched tea down the drain.

"G'night." Charlie said as April walked past him to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.


	3. Smoking

The first dinner that all the tenants had attended went so well that Mrs. Hudson was adamant that they all have dinner at least once a week, and because it was impossible to say no to Mrs. Hudson, once a week they all met in 221A to have a meal together. John and Charlie had hit it off quite well and they could often be found visiting one another, and on a very few occasions even went out for a night on the town. All in all things were going well at 221 Baker Street.

It was 2am on a Friday morning when the gun went off.

Charlie shot up in bed snatched his gun from its hiding spot behind the bookcase and threw open the door to the bedroom poised to shoot. He quickly scanned the scene looking for the intruder but all he saw was April covered in sweat arms raised, gun out stretched. He looked over and saw the hole in the wall.

Charlie sighed in relief, put his gun in the waist band of his shorts and slowly walked towards April.

"April." She didn't move.

"April." Again nothing.

"Christine," Finally movement. April looked over and saw Charlie. She looked like she had only just woken up. She saw the gun in her hand and dropped her hands to her sides.

"Oh god." She said as Charlie moved the gun away from her to the night stand and sat down next to her. April put her head in Charlie's shoulder. "It was so real."

"Shhh… it's okay. You're okay. It's over. They're not here." Charlie sat with her the rest of the night soothing her back to sleep and watching over her as she slept.

In the morning Charlie went on his run, April showered and neither one spoke about what happened. They didn't need to. It wasn't the first time, and more than likely it wouldn't be the last.

When Charlie got back from his run April was sitting on the couch reading a book. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

"I moved it. It's in the sock drawer." April said from the couch without getting up.

"Thanks for the heads up." Charlie said, putting the bottle back in the fridge and going to take a shower.

It was the only bit of conversation they had all day. It was often like that after April had her nightmares. They once went a week without talking after a particularly bad one, but they knew it wouldn't last long this time. They had Mrs. Hudson's dinner.

On the way up to Mrs. Hudson's Charlie took her hand. When they entered Mrs. Hudson's flat they found John and Sherlock having a fight.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked.

"John is having a mental break." Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"I am not having a mental break!" John yelled, clearly exasperated. "There were gun shots."

"Gun shots?" Charlie asked.

"Yes early this morning I heard a gun shot." John said.

"Well no one else did." Sherlock said, flopping down into a chair.

Charlie and April looked at each other. "Actually that was me." April said squeezing Charlie's hand.

"You?" John asked.

"Yes, Charlie keeps a gun for protection. I thought I heard an intruder and I shot. Turned out to be a stray cat that got in through the window. Luckily I missed it." April explained.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson gasped. "Well I'm glad everything's alright."

"Yeah, unfortunately there is a fairly sizeable hole in the wall though. I'm so sorry." April said.

"Not a problem." Mrs. Hudson said and turned to John. "John dearie what is the name of the man who fixes your walls?"

"Jerome." John answered.

"That's it. We'll just call Jerome, and it'll all be sorted. He's very good with bullet holes." Mrs. Hudson said.

"You get a lot of bullet holes in your walls do you?" Charlie asked jokingly.

"Only when I get bored." Sherlock said. Charlie laughed, until he saw the serious look on Sherlock's face.

"He's joking isn't he?" Charlie asked.

"No," John said shaking his head. It was clear Charlie didn't believe him. "Haven't you ever noticed the wall behind the couch?" John asked. Charlie shook his head. "It's covered in holes."

"It's not covered." Sherlock said, defending himself.

"Covered." John said glaring at Sherlock, who simply rolled his eyes. "If you don't believe me come up after dinner and I'll show you." John said.

That is exactly what they did. After dinner John, Sherlock, Charlie, and April all went up to John and Sherlock's flat. Sure enough the wall just behind their couch was riddled with bullet holes.

"Good God," Charlie said, "How often do you get bored?"

They stayed at John and Sherlock's for a while, just talking and drinking tea that John had kindly made for them. It was getting late and April wanted to go home, but she knew if she did Charlie would go too and he seemed be having a good time, she didn't want to ruin that. She really just wanted to be alone for a minute, anyway.

"Where's your restroom?" She asked.

"Down the hall to your left." John told her.

April found the bathroom easily enough, unfortunately it wasn't exactly what she needed, there was no window. Checking quickly to make sure no one was coming down the hall, April poked her head into the bedroom on the right side of the hall. Inside was exactly what she needed, a window.

Quickly and quietly April entered the room and shut the door behind her. She walked over to the window, opened it as far as it would go, and pulled a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket. This was what she had needed, what she had been craving. She hung out the window taking slow drags.

"I do hope you realized this isn't the bathroom."

April started, jumping back. "Sorry I just…" she didn't have an excuse.

"I won't tell if you don't." Sherlock said walking over to stand beside her, his hand outstretched. April smiled and handed over her lighter as well as another cigarette before retaking her position at the window. "How is it he doesn't know you smoke?" Sherlock asked.

"You mean because it's so obvious?" April said, mockingly. Sherlock thought everything was obvious. She liked that about him. It meant he rarely asked questions.

Sherlock did nothing more than take a drag. "He knows. Just like I know he keeps a stash of dirty magazines under the couch. We don't say anything about it and life is good."

"I will never understand romantic relationships." Sherlock said.

April laughed. "Lucky you. I take it John doesn't like you smoking either."

"Hates it."

April laughed again. Sherlock turned his head and watched her laugh. As he did he went through his list about her in his head. American, dual citizenship with England, Temp worker, wears only minimal make up, spends no more than 5 minutes on her hair, avid exerciser, prefers working out at night, prefers red wine to white, hates mushrooms and asparagus, needs glasses for reading but refuses to wear them. He added smoker to the list. April was difficult to read sometimes, Sherlock had noticed. It was as though even she wasn't sure of who she was or what was going on in her life sometimes, so anytime he found something out about her that was a constant, he added it to his list. It had become a bit of an obsession for him really, watching April, trying to figure her out. She was like a puzzle that had been sitting in your closet, you pulled it out every now and then intending to complete it, only to find more and more pieces missing from it each time you brought it out.

"We should probably get back." April said flicking the stub of her cigarette out the window.

Sherlock took another drag. "I'll meet you out there."

April left the bedroom and went back to the living room. She sat down next to Charlie and noticed his body tense, he could smell the smoke. She could feel him giving her a disapproving glance but she simply kept looking at John, listening to every word he said.


	4. Explanations

April and Charlie went home that night and went through their usual routine. Charlie would get the bathroom first, brushing his teeth, washing his face and changing in the small confines of the room. He would deposit his clothes from the day in the hamper in the bedroom then go out to the living room where he would pull the couch out into a bed, and get it ready for the night.

Meanwhile April would sit in the kitchen with a glass of water until Charlie emerged from the room, then she would take her turn in the bathroom. When she was washed and dressed she would poke her head out into the living room and say goodnight before closing the bedroom door and climbing alone into bed.

It was a routine they had down pact after 4 years of living together. Sometimes Charlie had his own room, but even then April would make the trip to it and say good night, Charlie would never go to sleep until she did. He went to sleep after her and woke up well before her. It wasn't a normal routine for a couple, but then again they weren't a normal couple, really, they weren't any kind of couple. Charlie was her handler and April was his charge, those were the titles everyone in witness protection was given, no matter what their public story was.

She remembered the first night they had lived together. Neither one of them slept at all; April out of sheer terror, jumping at every noise, and Charlie staying up, comforting her, letting her know he was there to protect her. After all that's what handlers are there for, to comfort and protect. Back then there was no April Wright, or Charlie Drudge, there was Christine Harwich and Trevor Gulliam, though not for long. They had stayed at Christine's home for only two days before receiving their first set of new identities and being shipped off to their new home.

In four years they had been reassigned seven times. The first few times had been because of unseen security risks. There had been a bounty on her head for what she had seen and done, and people were desperate to find her. They had no choice but to move as often as they could. The heat on her eventually died down, the people who wanted her dead, happy enough that she had seemingly disappeared, and the bounty was withdrawn. She couldn't leave protection though, there were still angry people after her, even if they were no longer hiring assassins. The last few moves though had been all April's fault. After a long time of moving and switching names and stories it just got too confusing. She would forget her own name, or how she was supposed to know her handler, little things that made people suspicious, she just couldn't keep it straight. Worse than that though were the nightmares. They had been the cause of two moves on their own. Sometimes, very rarely she would dream that she was back there in that dark room that smelled of sick and blood, and those faces would be standing over her smiling, laughing, She would scream out and lash out. During their fourth reassignment she started sleeping with a gun by her bed, five months in she began having the nightmares. One night they were really bad, she was screaming out and Charlie, named Greg at the time, came running. In her nightmare thrashings April got hold of the gun and shot it. Greg was lucky, he only suffered from a bullet graze to the side. She had only just missed him. The neighbors began to talk after that, whispering about incest and abuse. Somewhere out there someone thought she had committed both murder and suicide.

After her last security breach there had been a meeting with the heads of her security, Mycroft Holmes and an American woman named Michelle Carwridge. They had nearly taken Charlie from her then, wondering if he wasn't the problem. She had fought and won to keep him with her, begging and pleading for one more chance for him. This would be his last one, if she slipped up again, Charlie would be replaced. She had told them that it was the stories messing them up, and that if she could just have some control over them it would help her. They had let her choose her own name this time, it was a start.

April's life in protection wasn't easy, and she knew it never would be, it changed too often, but she was determined to have one constant, Charlie. He was the only thing she had been able to count on since the night she'd been kidnapped over 4 years ago, and she wasn't sure she could handle that being taken away from her too.


	5. Terror

"You're sure you're alright with this?" Charlie asked as he pulled his coat on. "I don't have to go."

"Do you not want to go?" April asked him looking up from the book in her lap.

"No, I do it's just." Charlie stopped himself.

"Just what?" April asked.

"I really hate strip clubs." He admitted. Charlie had been invited out for a stag night for one of the men at his work. He had tried to say no, but had managed to somehow instead get both himself and John wrangled into going.

April laughed. "Please you love looking at naked women."

"Yeah but not while they're writhing around trying to take my money." He said.

April shook her head, "Well you'll have John with you to keep you company I doubt he's much for the writhing naked women either." She said with a smile.

"So you still think he's gay 'eh?" Charlie asked.

"Nah, but you've seen the girls he brings home, not exactly Dita Von Teases are they?" she commented.

"True." A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. "That'll be him."

April got off of the couch and followed Charlie up the steps to their door.

"Hey, ready to go?" John asked as Charlie and April joined him in the hall.

"Yeah." Charlie said, turning and giving April a kiss on the cheek.

"Try and keep him in line a bit would you John?" April asked him, mostly jokingly.

"I'll try, but no promises." John said clapping a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"I'll try to get home early." Charlie told her as they started off towards the door.

"Not too early." She called after them.

Once the boys had left the building she went back inside locking the door behind them. She went back to her position on the couch, and continued reading. She was sat there for hours when the first sound happened.

There was a quick thud. Not an unusual sound to be heard from flat B, especially when Sherlock was left alone for an evening, so April didn't think much of it. But soon enough it was followed by another two thuds. Again April tried to brush it off, but then it happened, the sound of something shattering and a gun going off.

April shot up from her spot on the couch, book flung, forgotten to the floor. There was another crash. Quickly April grabbed Charlie's gun from its place behind the bookshelf and ran towards the door. She took a breath and unlocked the door. The sounds of the struggle upstairs increased immediately. Her back to the wall April slowly climbed the stairs. The door to flat B was only just open, Sherlock must have tried to go through it at some point.

At the top of the stairs April made a quick dash to the other wall, to conceal herself behind the door and still see in. The place was in shambles, and in the middle of it stood Sherlock and another man. The other man had a gun in his hand that Sherlock was only just keeping off to the side with one hand as he tried to swing at the man with his other. The man blocked Sherlock's attack and with one swift move, knocked Sherlock to the ground, giving him a bloody nose in the process. With Sherlock on the floor the man finally had his shot. He lifted the gun and pointed it right at Sherlock's head. He readied the shot, and BAM!

Sherlock had shut his eyes waiting for death. He heard the click of the bullet entering the chamber and knew his time was up. He heard the shot and then a scream. It wasn't his own, it wasn't one he knew. Sherlock opened his eyes, surprised that he could, and saw the man who had been standing over him with a gun not moments before, huddled over clutching the bleeding stump of what was once his shooting hand. The door to the flat swung open and April barged in, gun drawn and pointed at the screaming man.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" she yelled. The man barely took notice of her still in shock and pain from losing his hand. April moved closer to him. "I SAID ON THE GROUND!" she said as she shoved the barrel of the gun directly to the man's temple until he did as she said. The sniveling the man crawled to the ground, keeping his eyes on the girl with the gun.

Sherlock couldn't believe his eyes. April's eyes were hard and her mouth was set in a stern line. She didn't even blink as she held the gun perfectly still, and pointed it directly between the man's eyes. There was no inflection to her voice when she spoke again.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" She asked not taking her eyes off the man in front of her.

It took him a moment, "Yes. I'm fine."

"Good, grab the gun off the floor. Then find some rope, yarn, anything,…" The man below her made the tiniest movement. "Go ahead and move." She said cocking the gun. The man stopped and she continued talking to Sherlock, "Find something and tie this man up. Then I want you to call Charlie, tell him what's happened as quickly as you can."

She said it all so calmly that Sherlock did everything she asked, finding himself fascinated by as well as slightly afraid of the girl in front of him. The entire time that Sherlock moved around the flat April didn't move and neither did the man she was aiming at. Even as Sherlock tied the man up, she never once took her eyes or her gun off of the man who attacked Sherlock.

Once the attacker had been tied Sherlock sent a quick text to Lestrade before calling Charlie and telling him to get home. After hanging up the phone he walked over to April, slowly so as not to startle her.

"Is Charlie on his way?" she asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"Good. You should probably get some ice on your nose." She said. She still didn't move her eyes. Sherlock had completely forgotten about the blood running down his face from his surely broken nose. He reached up and felt it. Yes definitely broken.

"You can put the gun down now. He's not going anywhere." Sherlock told her, but April didn't flinch. Sherlock didn't take his eyes off April, terrified of what she might do if he did. This was not the April he knew, nothing in his list or his mental notes, even hinted at her doing something like this. It honestly worried him.

They stood there in silence Sherlock watching April, April staring at the attacker, until police sirens could be heard outside. Only then did Sherlock move, going to open the door so that the police wouldn't break it down, he went right back up after. It wasn't an officer that was the first through the door though, it was Charlie, running as fast as he could, John following close behind him. As soon as Charlie saw April, still holding the gun, he slowed. He stopped for a moment in the doorway before slowly walking over towards April as though he was approaching a feral dog.

"April. April it's okay, the police are here now." As he said it they were beginning to climb the stairs. He slowly crept closer and carefully, so carefully placed his hand on top of hers, clutched around the gun. "It's okay, you can put it down now. You're safe" He applied the lightest pressure and slowly her hands began to lower. As they lowered they began to shake, only light tremors at first, but they quickly got worse, making it unable for her to hold the weapon any longer. Charlie quickly took it from her grip and turned to the side and pulled out the cartridge before turning back to April just in time to catch her as she crumbled.

It took one breath. April took one breath and all of the calm and calculated demeanor she had went out the window and she was a shaking wreck in Charlie's arms. Her breathing was ragged and tears were trailing from her eyes as Charlie whispered into her ear over and over that she was okay.

Charlie slowly moved her over to the couch, out of the way as the medics and police came in to attend to Sherlock and his attacker. April stayed with her head buried in Charlie's shoulder until the majority of the police had left.

"John would you mind?" She heard Charlie ask as he started to move. "I've got to go talk to the police, I'll be right back." Charlie told her, bringing her head up so that she had to look right into his eyes. April nodded, and let go of Charlie. As soon as Charlie was gone John replaced him, draping a blanket over her and placing an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arms.

Charlie walked outside and found who he was looking for. Mycroft was standing next to an ambulance talking to his brother, who had thankfully been cleaned up, and had a splint on his face. Charlie stood off a ways knowing that Mycroft knew he was there. He didn't have to wait long.

"How the hell did this happen?" Mycroft asked.

Charlie hung his head. "I don't know. There were no signs, everything was clear when I left."

Mycroft put one hand on his hip and the other he ran through his hair as he surveyed the area. "Well keep her inside, we got lucky on this one, the man was only after my brother, some jewel thief, no one of consequence. He'll be taken care of though, just as precaution. I expect you'll be a bit more cautious from now on." It was a command not a question.

"Yes sir." Charlie said, before turning and going back in to take care of April.


	6. Whoops

In the days that followed Charlie wouldn't leave April alone for more than a few minutes. He even slept in the bedroom with her at the end of her bed like a sort of watch dog. The only alone time she got was when she showered or went to the bathroom, and she was grateful for it. What happened had shaken her. She didn't remember much of what happened after she got to the top of the stairs. She remembered seeing Sherlock get thrown to the ground, she remembered raising her gun, and then it went mostly black until Charlie was there telling her the police were there. During the blackness though there were bursts where she remembered staring into that man's eyes and one very vivid moment of Sherlock, face covered in blood, giving her a worried look, his lips moving but no sound coming out.

April stood staring in the bathroom mirror as that image played over and over in her mind. A knock on the door was the only thing to pull her out of it. "Coming," She called out before splashing some water on her face.

When she came out of the bathroom Charlie was sitting on her bed. He looked up and took in her appearance. "We don't have to go you know." He said.

April shook her head. "No, Mrs. Hudson is right, we shouldn't let a bit of unpleasantness get in the way of life."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes." April said walking out the door knowing that Charlie was following her.

They walked up to Mrs. Hudson's flat and were happily greeted at the door. "Oh I'm so glad you decided to come dearies." Mrs. Hudson said as she showed them in to the sitting room they knew all too well by now.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world Mrs. Hudson." April told her.

As usual Sherlock and John were already there, sitting and playing a game of chess, which John was badly losing.

"Good to see your nose is healing well." Charlie said to Sherlock. Sherlock nodded his acknowledgment of the statement as he moved a piece to put John in checkmate.

"Care for a game Charlie? I'd love to play someone I have an actual chance of winning against." John said.

"Who says you'd have a chance?" Charlie said, swapping seats with Sherlock as John put the pieces back in their original spots.

"I do hope you're feeling well." Sherlock said, as he took a seat next to April.

"I'm doing better." April said, "And you?"

"Not the first time someone's held a gun to my head." Sherlock said. He hadn't meant anything by it, but it made April flinch all the same. She knew Sherlock noticed, and was glad when he didn't say anything about it.

"I'm going to see if Mrs. Hudson needs any help." April said as she stood. She was having trouble being near Sherlock, the images of him being flung to the floor, and him staring at her with blood running down his face, alternating in her head.

"Is there anything I can help with?" April asked Mrs. Hudson as she walked into the kitchen.

"I don't think so dear. Dinner will be ready shortly. You just go have fun with the boys." Mrs. Hudson replied, shooing her out of the kitchen.

April thought about going back into the sitting room as she had been told to, but she wanted to be alone, if only for a minute. She knew Mrs. Hudson had a small office so she went there instead. She entered the office and shut the door behind her. She sat in Mrs. Hudson's office chair and stared at the wall.

She couldn't have been there long when the door creaked open. April jumped at the noise.

"I didn't mean to scare you." Sherlock said as he entered the room.

"It's okay." April said.

"I thought you could use one of these." Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

April smiled, and took the offering. They walked over to the window and opened it before Sherlock lit April's cigarette and produced one for himself.

"I assumed Charlie wouldn't be giving a moment you alone." Sherlock said.

"You're right. This is the longest I've been alone all week." April said.

"And you don't mind it?" he asked.

"Not all the time." April said taking another drag. "Though I hope he lets up soon."

The two sat in silence for a while, before Sherlock could no longer contain his curiosity. "Where did you learn to shoot?" he asked. "It's not exactly a temp skill."

April bowed her head and recited the lie she and Charlie had rehearsed. "We had a break in at our last place. It's why Charlie started keeping a gun for protection. If there was going to be a gun in the house I wanted to learn to use it. So I took lessons."

Sherlock watched April as she smoked. "You're lying." He said. April said nothing. Sherlock moved closer to her. "You didn't flinch the entire time you held that gun, not until Charlie came. He didn't say anything that I didn't but once he was there you started shaking. That speaks to a trauma, a trauma that Charlie was there for you for." The entire time he spoke Sherlock was looking right into April's eyes.

Suddenly that one vivid memory came flashing back. Sherlock bleeding, wide eyed, lips moving. "What did you say?" April asked.

"I said you didn't flinch, not once…"

"No not then, when we were in your flat, before the police got there" She specified.

"I told you, you could put the gun down. That he wasn't going anywhere." Sherlock said.

April closed her eyes and brought the image back, placing the words in it. They fit. "I don't remember much of it you know. I remembered you talking but couldn't remember the words." Sherlock didn't know what this had to do with anything but it seemed to make April feel better. "They weren't anything like what Charlie said."

"Yes they were I informed you things were under control." Sherlock said still confused.

April shook her head and looked back up at Sherlock. "No, you told me he wasn't going anywhere, Charlie told me I would be alright. He said I would be okay. All he cared about was me."

"Of course he did, you're his girlfriend, you are very important to him." Sherlock was still confused. Something he was beginning to be around April far more often than he liked.

April laughed on the inside. "Sometimes I wish he didn't care so much. Sometimes all I want is for someone to tell me it's no big deal and to get over it."

"People like to coddle those they love, it makes them feel better." Sherlock told her.

"You don't though." It was a question.

"I don't see the point. You can't change what happened, you can only, get over it, as you put it."

She didn't mean to do it, she didn't even know she was going to. It was just like the moments before she shot Sherlock's attackers only she was very much conscious during the aftermath. Her lips collided with Sherlock's and her eyes closed. She waited for him to push her back, tell her she was simply having an emotional reaction to a traumatic event, tell her everything she already knew. She was all prepared for it to happen when Sherlock's hand reached her arm, but it didn't, instead of pushing her away his hand just stayed there.

Sherlock was just as confused about what was happening as April. They had just been talking. There had been no build up, no sexual tension, just talking one minute then the next they were lip locked. Sherlock knew that he should stop this, he even reached up to push April away, but his hand touched the skin on her arm and suddenly he couldn't remember the reason why, so instead he left it there.

There was a quick knock and the creek of the door and April and Sherlock shot apart. The quick movement caused April to drop her still lit cigarette.

"Shit!" she yelled as she quickly stomped the cigarette out.

"So this is where you've been getting them." It was Charlie.

April's head shot up, guilt written all over her face. "Charlie I…"

"It's alright. I know this week's been hard on you. You're entitled to a slip up or two." Charlie told her. "In the future though, Sherlock, I'd appreciate it if you didn't supply my girlfriend with her fix."

"I do apologize, addiction and all that" Sherlock said, taking a last drag of his nearly forgotten cigarette before flicking its remains out the window.

"Yes, well, Mrs. Hudson has dinner ready." Charlie told them.

"You two go ahead," Sherlock said. "I'll clean this up." He motioned to the spot on the floor where April's cigarette had been ground into the carpet.

"Thanks." April said, not taking the chance to look back at Sherlock for even a moment before walking out of the office, Charlie right behind her.

Sherlock quickly scooped up all the ashes that he could and tossed them out the window, scattering the rest with his shoe. It was all the cleaning that he'd do, Mrs. Hudson wouldn't even notice the tiny patch of dirt. He really just needed a moment to think. He had kissed April, or April had kissed him, he wasn't entirely sure which, he wasn't even sure it mattered really. They had both been through a very traumatic event, even Sherlock wasn't immune to coming that close to death, no matter how many times it happened in his life. It was never easy. It was only natural that they would seek comfort in each other. Now that they had though, it was done. April had Charlie, she would see her mistake and that would be the end of it. They would forget this little indiscretion and go on with life as it was. Satisfied with his rationalization Sherlock went and joined the rest of the party in the dining room.

It was not so easy for April to rationalize away what she had done. After dinner she had managed to convince Charlie that she was well enough that she could sleep alone, so thankfully, he went back to sleeping on his couch. April however wasn't doing much sleeping. It wasn't that she felt bad about kissing Sherlock, she wasn't really in a relationship with Charlie, so there was no reason to feel guilty, but she did. Charlie really hadn't seen her kissing Sherlock, she had questioned him well enough to figure that out, and for once since meeting Charlie she had a secret that he didn't know. It scared her really, especially because she didn't know why she'd done it. She wasn't attracted to Sherlock, not really. He wasn't particularly handsome, he was often crass, and always blunt, he was mechanical and harsh. Her head hurt thinking about it all. She pulled her legs up and put her head between her knees, breathing deeply. It was the stress, and the shock, she repeated over and over in her head. It wasn't important, and Charlie didn't need to know. It became her mantra, and after repeating it enough April finally managed to get to sleep.


	7. Inevitable

Another week passed, and although Charlie was sleeping in his own bed he still barely gave April a minute to herself. It was beginning to drive her insane.

"I CAN'T BREATHE!" April yelled at Charlie. They were having their third argument that day about April's lack of privacy and it was going no where.

"What do you want me to do about it? I can't leave you alone again, not after what happened last time." Charlie said with an exasperated sigh.

"Last time was a freak accident." April groaned.

"Tell that to Mycroft. He wants a closer eye on you." Charlie told her.

"Fine, get him on the phone. I'll make him give you a night off." April said stretching out her hand for Charlie's phone.

Charlie sighed, "April.."

"He's already doubled the protection on the out side of the house. There's so much security out there it'd be impossible for anyone to get in unseen. Having you next to me 24 hours a day won't do anything to stop them, and I think I proved I can handle myself last time anyway. Incase you forgot I was the one holding him at gun point. I saved Sherlock's life, something no one seems to remember." April said angrily.

"Maybe that's because we were too focused on your mental breakdown afterwards." Charlie felt awful after he said it. It had been a low blow and he knew it. "April I'm sorry I didn't…"

"Stop, just forget it. Forget I said anything. I forget I'm not allowed to have any kind of say in my own life." April said, before storming off to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Charlie slumped down onto the couch, his head in his hands and groaned. Sometimes he forgot how hard it could be on April, how much she had given up and how much she had been through.

Suddenly his phone rang. He checked the number and immediately answered. "Sir?"

"She can have 48 hours. No more." The voice on the other end said. "We will make all the arrangements. You leave in two hours."

"Thank you sir." Charlie said before the line went dead.

Charlie got up from his spot on the couch and walked over to the bedroom. He knocked once and entered. April was curled up on the bed, facing away from him. He walked over to the closet and pulled out his suitcase.

"It seems that my mother's gotten ill." He said. April didn't move but he could tell she was listening. "I'll have to go and stay with her, It'll just be for the weekend, but I have to leave right away." He turned to look and sure enough April had sat up. "You'll be alright on your own won't you?"

"Thank you." April said.

"Don't thank me." Charlie said.

Once Charlie was packed and ready to go, April walked him to the front door. "I'll be back Sunday night." Charlie told her.

"I'll be here." She told him. She kissed him on the cheek and he left.

April spent the day, just hanging around her flat. She read, listened to music, danced and that night she fell asleep to a movie. It was the most relaxing night she had had in a very long time. Saturday morning dawned and April again spent the day relaxing and enjoying being by herself.

It had been a very long time since she'd spent time alone, and at first she enjoyed it, but as the sun went down on her second night alone she finally started to miss the constant presence that Charlie had been in her life. She began to get restless with only herself there to keep her entertained. Eventually she wasn't able to stand it anymore and decided it might be a good idea to see if John or Sherlock fancied a game or a movie, or even just drinks. So she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of flat B.

The door swung open and Sherlock appeared. "April, what can I do for you?" He asked stepping aside and letting April in.

"I just wanted to see if you and John were free tonight," April said.

"I'm afraid John is out tonight. He has a date." Sherlock told her.

"Oh."

"I hope you and Charlie weren't planning anything too important that he'd miss." Sherlock said.

"No, um actually it's just me. Charlie's mother got sick so he's been gone since yesterday." April told him.

"Oh, I hope it's nothing serious." Sherlock said.

"No, she'll be fine. In fact Charlie's coming home tomorrow night. I guess I was just feeling a bit lonely, really." She admitted.

"We'll you're welcome to hang about here, I'm not sure how much company I'll be really." Sherlock said.

"Thanks." April said, finally taking a seat on the couch. "I just sort of miss having another presence around. It's been a while since I've been on my own."

"You and Charlie have been together a long time then?" Sherlock said, pulling his desk chair over.

"Yes, a very long time." April said. She looked up at Sherlock and realized that this was actually the first time they had been alone since their kiss. Suddenly she was very nervous. They had seen each other in passing, even made small talk in the hall, but Charlie or John or Mrs. Hudson had always been there.

Sherlock clearly felt the change in atmosphere. He cleared his throat. "Should we talk about the other night?" He asked.

She should have known he would be blunt about it. "What's there to talk about?" April said, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt.

"I've found that after participating in relational indiscretion many people find the need to talk about how they feel it should be handled, per the affected parties." Sherlock said, sounding very much like he was reading from a text book.

"It was a mistake. It had been a stressful week and I made a mistake. It's one that Charlie would easily forgive given the circumstances, so really there is no point in bringing it to his attention." April told him.

"I see, so everything is fine then?" he questioned for clarification.

"Yes. Fine" April said. There was a short uncomfortable pause, "Unless there was something about it you wanted to discuss."

"No, no I just wanted to make sure things were clear. It was a mistake." Sherlock answered quickly.

Again an uncomfortable silence fell. "You don't happen to have a cigarette on you do you?" April asked with a crooked smile.

"I do, but I promised your boyfriend, I would no longer supply you." Sherlock reminded her.

"Damn, I finished off my emergency pack this afternoon." April said.

Sherlock got up from his seat, walked over to his desk, and pulled out a small box. "Here this might help."

April stood up as Sherlock pulled a patch out of the box. He took her arm and rolled up the sleeve of her jumper and placed the patch on her forearm. April watched as he smoothed the patch onto her skin, and she could feel the almost instantaneous relief it gave her as the nicotine entered her system. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Sherlock knew she could have applied the patch herself. He also knew that he didn't really need to smooth it down. He even knew that he was holding onto her arm too long. What he didn't know was why. It was too long past the event to blame his actions on the events that had transpired, wasn't it? And his week had been restful to say the least, and they had just agreed that what happened the week before had been nothing more than a mistake, never to be repeated, so why was he leaning forward.

April opened her eyes, and saw Sherlock slowly entering her personal space. She could have stopped it. She could have taken a step back or coughed and broken whatever spell seemed to be affecting them, but the flip in her stomach stopped her, and she closed her eyes and met him half way.

April couldn't help herself, she stepped in closer to Sherlock causing him to drop her arm. She placed her hands on his chest, as his arms wrapped around her, one hand landing on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back.

It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, becoming desperate, as though any minute Charlie would walk in and end it just as he had done the week before. Neither one of them knew what had come over them. It wasn't planned and it didn't make sense, all they knew was that whatever was happening, they didn't want it to end.

Things became a blur and when the kiss broke momentarily for some much needed air, April suddenly became aware of her surroundings. They were no longer standing in the living room. They were in Sherlock's bedroom, on his bed, Sherlock's shirt was open and falling from his shoulders, April straddling him, became extremely aware of the cold breeze on her skin, her jumper and shirt both hanging from a chair on the other side of the room. Her forehead was pressed to his as they both breathed heavily. Again she could have stopped it, she was aware of what she was doing now. She pulled back, and stared Sherlock in the eyes.

"Do you want this?" She asked. She had hoped that speaking would break the trance, that they would realize this was wrong. That Sherlock would tell her that she had a boyfriend and that even though it wasn't true it would shock her into frantically grabbing her clothing and running back to the safety of her empty flat.

Sherlock heard the words and became just as aware of his surroundings as April. The word no was on his lips. No he didn't want this; did he? He stared at April, she was beautiful, he knew that, he wasn't blind, but that had never been something that attracted Sherlock, to anyone. He thought for a moment, as best as he could in the haze of his arousal. He was fascinated by April, there was so much more to her than he could tell at a single glance, he had done nothing but think of her since she moved in, he noticed more about her in the months that she had been at 221 Baker street than he had about John in the years that he had known him. Sherlock realized with a sudden jolt that perhaps he did want this, that he had wanted this for a long time.

"Yes." He said, and then captured her lips once again, pulling her to him.

April was sure the fog would hit her again, that she would detach from what was happening, but she didn't. She felt Sherlock's hands run across her body, his lips moving against hers, his arousal straining against the fabrics of their clothes. She was completely aware of every sound, every movement, every feeling, and she wanted more of it. Sherlock made a swift move and flipped April onto her back, and with a soft groan she gave in to whatever it was that had her in its grips.


	8. Found Out

April and Sherlock lay in bed breathing heavy in their afterglow. Neither one knew what to say, not wanting to destroy their own individual happiness. April felt content. For the time that she and Sherlock had been together she hadn't been worried, or scared, or stressed, she had simply been there in the moment, too busy with pleasure to think of anything else. She wanted it to last forever, she never wanted to go back to her real life of hiding and secrets.

Sherlock felt human. It wasn't something he felt often, and in this moment he relished it. There was a beautiful and interesting woman, next to him, who had wanted him, who had him. He turned his head and looked at her. She was lying on her back, eyes closed with a smile on her face. He wanted to reach out, touch her face, hold her, but he was afraid to move. Afraid to break the moment, to bring in reality, where he wasn't the one she wanted, where he was the other man, the one she used for comfort in moments of weakness when her boyfriend was away.

The moment, like all moments, did come to an end. April opened her eyes and turned her head, to see Sherlock staring at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, unsure of what to say. Eventually it was April who broke the silence.

"Was it,… I mean… Are you…Are we…?" She didn't know what she was trying to ask so she just stopped, and sat up, holding the sheet up around her chest, as she pulled a hand through her hair.

Sherlock sat up, letting the sheet pool around his waist. "How do you feel?" Sherlock asked. It didn't cover all of what he wanted to know, but for the moment it would do.

April turned to look at him. There was no use in lying. "Confused." April turned away again, unable to face Sherlock as she asked the one question she desperately needed answered, "Was this another mistake?"

Sherlock wished he could see April's face, maybe then he'd know what to say. He leaned forward and put a hand on April's naked shoulder. She wouldn't turn and face him, not until she heard his answer. Sherlock moved his hand across the smooth skin of April's back stopping at her other shoulder. He placed a kiss on the back of her neck and answered, "I hope not."

April turned and searched his face for any sign that he might be lying, but she didn't find any. She saw questions flying about in his eyes, but nothing more. Sherlock placed his hand on April's cheek and pulled her face towards his. This time their kiss held no desperation, it was slow and deliberate. April turned her body and crawled over top of Sherlock slowly lowering them to the bed.

Afterwards they laid together in bed for hours, just lying there, hands intertwined, talking, both letting their guards down as much as they dared. Wanting whatever was happening between them to never end, but knowing that it would.

"I made Charlie teach me." April said, stroking the back of Sherlock's hand with her thumb.

"Teach you what?" he asked.

"To shoot." April answered. "He was in the police force back in America, before he was a trainer. It's why he had the gun. I didn't like when he'd leave it at home, I was afraid I'd need to use it and I wouldn't know how, so I made him teach me. We went to the shooting range every day for months. I'm a fantastic shot." She said, telling him more of the truth than she would have dared to under normal circumstances.

"I hate peas." Sherlock responded. April laughed. "I'm serious. I cannot stand them. You're supposed to eat them with a fork, but they roll everywhere!"

"The great Sherlock Holmes baffled by peas?" April laughed.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh along. "Oh shut up."

April smiled as Sherlock pouted. She leaned in and kissed him. Sherlock sighed in contentment as they just lay there, April chuckling every now and then at Sherlock's dislike of peas.

"I'm not very good at these things" Sherlock said eventually.

"I don't think anyone is, not really." April said.

Sherlock made a small noise of agreement, and pulled her closer. "What happens next," he found himself asking, "in the morning?

The smile that had been on April face, disappeared quickly. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him, really. She still hadn't fully processed everything that had happened in the past few hours they had spent together. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him that in the morning they tried their hand at a real relationship, or that in the morning they went on to being friends with benefits, or that really what was happening was all about comfort and companionship and it would probably never happen again. In the end she rationalized that she didn't need to know because it didn't matter. No matter what she wanted in the morning she had to be Charlie's girlfriend, living happily with him at 221 C Baker street, not in bed with Sherlock Holmes in 221 B. "Let's not worry about that now." She said, tightening her grip around Sherlock's waist.

She didn't need to say anything else. Sherlock knew exactly what she meant. He wasn't sure what he thought her answer would be, she was with Charlie, had been for a long time, she wasn't about to leave him for a one night stand with a damaged man. He ignored the way she held him closer after she said it and the sadness in her voice. _'see this for what it is Sherlock,"_ he told himself, _'she was lonely and you were there. You haven't been with anyone in a very long time, you were hardly in a fit state to hold off her advances.'_

The atmosphere of the room changed drastically after that. The two stayed wrapped in each others arms but there was no smiling, no contentment, and no joy. Both thought about moving, making an excuse and leaving to be alone, to think and deal with things, but neither could bring themselves to do it. So instead they stayed still in each others arms, until they fell asleep.

When John came home extremely early in the morning, he had expected Sherlock to be seated in his chair playing the violin, a snide remark on his lips, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sherlock had slept only a few days ago, and wasn't scheduled to sleep for another day or two at least. Curious John went to Sherlock's room and opened the door just enough to see in. He was not prepared for what he saw.

Sherlock was indeed sleeping, but he was not alone. John was shocked. He stood frozen in the door way. There was a noise from the bed as the woman in bed with Sherlock turned over and her face fell into the light coming in from the open door. John had to clamp a hand over his mouth as he saw the face. Sherlock groaned and turned as well, throwing an arm over the now very familiar woman with him, causing John to remember how to move.

Quietly John closed the door, leaning against it in shock. He couldn't believe it. There was absolutely no way that he had seen what he thought he had seen. Sherlock was not in bed with April. There was no just no way. John had just had too much to drink that was all. John walked up to his room telling himself over and over again that he was just drunk, in the morning everything would be back to normal.


	9. He Knows

In the morning John did indeed wake up with a hangover. It wasn't too bad, but it was a nice reminder that he should probably shouldn't go for that 7th or 8th drink next time. He walked down stairs to the kitchen desperate for a cup of tea. When he got down there he saw Sherlock sitting at the table eating toast and suddenly his vision from the night before came shooting to the forefront of his mind. Sherlock, shirtless, throwing an arm over April as they laid in bed together. John stopped in his tracks.

"Everything alright John?" Sherlock asked as he took another bite of his toast.

"What, oh yeah, everything's fine." John said walking into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. As he waited for his water to boil, he surveyed Sherlock. Everything seemed normal, no signs of Sherlock having had sex, not that he was really sure what Sherlock would look like after a night of sex. John guessed that his hair would have been a bit mussed if nothing else, but Sherlock's hair didn't look any more mussed than it usually did in the morning. John shook his head. It must have just been a drunken hallucination, he probably hadn't even gone to Sherlock's room last night, he just passed out in his bed and had a very vivid dream. Still… "Anyone else here?" John asked, hoping that the question wasn't as odd sounding as he thought it was.

Sherlock looked up and gave John a confused look, "No, should there be?"

John shook his head, "No, I suppose not."

Sherlock gave John one more confused look before finishing off his toast and heading into the living room and picking up his violin. John watched Sherlock for a moment more before shaking his head once again, chalking his thoughts up to an extremely vivid dream and going to make himself some breakfast.

All day long John had been telling himself that he had simply dreamed seeing April and Sherlock together, but there was a single nagging thought in the back of his mind that the dream had just been too real. So late that afternoon when Sherlock left the apartment on an errand to try and convince Molly into handing over a few fresh body parts John decided to investigate, if only to quiet that voice. Once he was sure Sherlock was gone, John got up and walked to Sherlock's room. He opened the door and took a quick sniff, if any activities had gone on in the room, the scent of it was long gone. He stepped inside and took stock of the room, it was messy, but that was usual, there were clothes thrown all over the place, but all of them male, clearly belonging to Sherlock. Nothing visible in the room showed any sign that a female had ever been in Sherlock's room. In one last effort to clear his mind of any doubt John walked over to the trash can and picked it up, there was a banana peel, some tissues, a few pieces of crumpled paper, no condoms though.

Finally satisfied that it all really had been a dream John left Sherlock's room and went back to the living room to continue working on his blog. He sat down on the couch and crossed his legs balancing his laptop in his lap. He opened up a new word document and began typing when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He reached over pulled the something off his shoe, it was gold, metallic and sticky.

"Ugh" John groaned. He put his laptop down and went to the kitchen and threw the thing in the trash and washed his hands. Half way through washing his hands it dawned on him exactly what the thing hand been. Shocked John pulled out the trash can and picked up the thing again, examining it. He still wasn't sure he was right about what it was until he flipped it over and a torn T showed itself. "Sherlock, you didn't" he whispered, unable and unwilling to believe it. John threw the torn piece of condom wrapper back into the trash and went back to washing his hands.

John didn't know what to do, he sat on the sofa all afternoon going over and over various scenarios in his head. Did he confront Sherlock about it? Did he confront April? Did he tell Charlie? Did he do nothing?

Eventually Sherlock came home carrying with him a well wrapped human leg. He was positively giddy over whatever experiment he intended to complete with it. As John watched Sherlock begin to dissect the leg on their kitchen table John suddenly wanted to laugh. There was no way that Sherlock had sex with April, or anyone for that matter, John decided. The condom wrapper had probably been on the floor for weeks after some experiment Sherlock had done. It was the only explanation that made any sort of sense, after all, Sherlock had had a naked and willing Irene Adler in his bed and had done nothing about it, and no offense to April, she was lovely, but she was no Irene Adler.

Happy and content with his explanation of a dream and an experiment John chastised Sherlock for cutting human flesh where they were meant to eat their food and continued on with his day.

April had gotten back to her apartment so early the next morning that the sun hadn't risen yet. Sherlock wasn't much for sleep, and once he woke up he made so much noise that it was impossible for April to sleep. It was just as well though, as April had no want or need to be caught by John sneaking out of Sherlock's room.

Neither April or Sherlock said anything as April went around the room collecting each item of her clothing, nor did they say anything as they left the room. Sherlock didn't even walk April to the door, veering off to instead make himself a cup of tea. It was as though she had simply been up for a visit and was leaving, there was nothing that suggested the two had spent the night together, outside of their rumpled appearances and Sherlock's scent that still lingered on April's skin.

The first thing April did when she got home was take a shower. She scrubbed until every trace of her night with Sherlock was erased from her skin and hair. She redressed in a pair of pajamas and put her clothes from the previous day on the very bottom of the hamper. She crawled into bed and hoped that sleep would come quickly. It didn't.

Her bed was too cold, and too big, and it smelled like flowers. She laid staring up at her ceiling, without the feeling of a body next to her April suddenly felt very much alone. She supposed she should feel dirty or wrong after what had happened, but she didn't. She just felt cold and alone. April curled into herself, pulled her blanket higher up around her and just laid there, counting the hours until Charlie came home.


	10. Guilt

April was sure that Charlie could tell what she'd done. She was sure she smelled of sex and Sherlock. She was paranoid that she had a hickey that she hadn't noticed, standing out somewhere on her skin. She felt as though she had a giant scarlet A emblazoned on her forehead for all the world to see. She was sure he knew, and that he was just ignoring it until she told him. He did that sometimes, with difficult things.

April watched Charlie as he sat at their table typing away on his computer. She could tell him, it wouldn't matter, not really. He'd lecture her about how unsafe it would be for her to form attachment, yell at her about how it would affect their cover. To all outside parties April had cheated on Charlie, she had done something completely unforgivable, and if Sherlock told anyone, if it through one means or another got back to Charlie, he would have to react as any jilted lover would. It would cause a lot of problems, all of which April had thought through, coming to one final conclusion; nothing like that could ever happen again, not with Sherlock, not with anyone.

"Charlie" April said getting his attention.

Charlie turned, "Yeah?"

"Could we go out somewhere? Dinner or something?" she asked. If April was going to tell him she would do it somewhere more private, not here where there was always someone watching and listening. Not where Sherlock's brother would most definitely hear.

"Tonight?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah."

"Can't, I've got work this afternoon and Mycroft wants all these reports finished by morning." Charlie said.

"Oh, okay." April said chewing on her bottom lip, and moving her eyes back to the forgotten TV screen.

"How about tomorrow though?" April looked up at Charlie's smiling face, and couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks." She said, sitting back and trying to pay attention to what was playing on the screen, and not to the thoughts racing through her brain.

Racing thoughts were all Sherlock could concentrate on. He lay on the couch finger steeped under his chin, violin unceremoniously laying on the floor beside him, having been no use to helping him think. John was out. He had managed to find a surgery that could deal with his rather hectic schedule and was currently at work, which suited Sherlock just fine, as he would be no help anyway.

It had been one week and 4 days since he had slept with April and even through all of the cases and experiments he had done, he couldn't stop thinking about it, or more specifically, why it happened, what it meant, and whether or not it would happen again.

The Friday after it happened they had all gathered at Mrs. Hudson's as usual for what Mrs. Hudson called their family meals. Sherlock had been fully prepared for the awkwardness he usually noticed around couples and the people they cheated with, but it had been strangely absent. He had been sure not to find himself alone with April; he did not go after her when she snuck off to smoke, he hadn't sat next to or across from her, but it seemed almost as though it was unnecessary.

He knew that April was a good actress. He had watched her lie well enough to him on a nearly constant basis to know that, but this was too good. She didn't over compensate for her guilt by hanging onto Charlie, showering him with too much affection, nor did she shy away from his touch when he reached for her. She was acting almost as though, no cheating had occurred at all. Sherlock was sure he looked guiltier than she did at certain points, and really he didn't have nearly as much to feel guilty about. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps this was a common occurrence for April, that perhaps she and Charlie had an open relationship. It would certainly explain some things; the unchanged behavior and the question she had posed to Sherlock just before they had gotten rid of the rest of their clothes. She had put it all in Sherlock's hands, asking if he wanted it, not questioning herself at all. But it didn't quite fit. She had been just as unsure of what happened next as he was and if they had an open relationship wouldn't Charlie and April both be free to look at others?

John often came home after a night out with Charlie telling some story or other about a waitress, or bar tender giving their number to Charlie, and him simply throwing it out. John complained about how unfair it was sometimes. If they had an open relationship surely Charlie would have gone home with someone every now and then, although it was possible that he was trying to be sensitive to John's sensibilities thinking he would be judgmental.

Sherlock sighed, picked up his violin and walked across the room, placing it back in its case. He chewed on his lip and began to pace.

Whatever the status of Charlie and April's relationship, it didn't answer any of his questions. Why? Why had it happened? That should have been the easiest question to answer. They had recently been through a traumatic event, one which, afterwards, because of their shared emotions had resulted in a kiss. The heightened emotions and the romantic aspect of kissing had become associated with April so that the next time he saw her those associations came to the forefront of his mind and had caused him to act out in a sexual manner. But that wasn't entirely true, Sherlock knew that. He had been propositioned many times as John's blog had made them more well know, and many times these propositions came after, what normal people would consider, traumatic occurrences. He had never once even considered accepting, with the exception of Irene Adler, but then none of them had intrigued him the way April did.

April confused him, constantly. She lied often, about little things, and big things, about things no one would ever think to lie about. She lied so often that it was almost as if there was nothing real about her, but he had his list. The list of things about her that were undeniably true, that hadn't faltered. For a while he had thought that during their pillow talk he would have added to his list, but it didn't grow much. So there was the why, she was a puzzle, the one thing he was addicted to above all others. It also answered whether or not it would ever happen again. Sherlock was an addict, if given the chance; he knew that no matter how hard he fought it he would more than likely give in.

As for what it meant, there Sherlock was stumped. There wasn't enough information for him to even guess at it. There was never any real build up to what happened between him and April, so it wasn't simple lust. There was no heart pounding, heavy breathing, sweaty palms. Love was ruled out immediately. Maybe it was just his baser instincts making themselves known, but they never had before.

Sherlock shook his head let out a frustrated groan and flopped down across his armchair. Sherlock needed something, anything to take his mind off of these thoughts. He wasn't getting anywhere with them. He jumped up and stormed to his room, throwing on a suit, making his mind up that a trip to the morgue might be a good idea.

As Sherlock began to race down the stairs, the door opened. Sherlock felt the need to curse a higher power as the figure of his thoughts came through it. He stopped in his tracks, halfway down the stairs and nearly held his breath hoping that April wouldn't notice him. She almost didn't but at the last second her head came up and their eyes locked.

Not willing to look as shaken as he momentarily felt Sherlock continued down the stairs. "Hello" he said, greeting April as he would anyone else.

"Sherlock, hello" April said not moving from her position in front of the door. "Going out?" she asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said. He reached the landing and they stood face to face, both very much aware of how alone they were. Sherlock noticed April tense as he approached, perhaps she wasn't as unaffected as she seemed. It gave him a bit of a thrill, if he was honest, one that he wasn't used to. "You're back early from work"

"They didn't have anything for me today." April told him. Sherlock nodded.

April was acutely aware of Sherlock's presence. The smell of soap and chemicals wafting off of him, carried on the breeze from the open door behind her. She was nervous, nearly shaking, and she felt like an idiot for it. She had made up her mind, she had done nothing wrong and nothing was ever going to happen again, but she had made that promise to herself once before. She suddenly realized she was blocking the door, which Sherlock was patiently waiting to use.

"Sorry" April said shaking her head and stepping to the side.

"Not a problem." Sherlock said as he started to move around her.

Sherlock's arm only just brushed April's own, and a shiver went through her. She couldn't let it happen again, and she had to let him know.

"Sherlock?" she called, stopping him in his place. "I've been with Charlie nearly 5 years. I can't leave him."

"I haven't asked you to." Sherlock said, turning towards her.

April took a step away from him "If you ever did I'd say no. I can't loose him. I won't" She told him looking straight into his eyes, making sure that he understood that she meant it, every last word.

"I understand." Sherlock said, and he did. He knew that no matter what happened in the next moment, whether he left the flat as he had intended to, or he pulled her into him as he wanted to, she would be Charlie's. She was doing it again, putting all of the control into Sherlock's hands. He didn't know why she did it, why she kept trusting him to make the right decisions. He also didn't know why he kept making the wrong ones. Sherlock shut the door and stepped towards April, closing the distance between them, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her in for a hard kiss.

As the kiss got more heated they began to move, Sherlock, leading April backwards, towards the door to her flat, which was closer than his own. April bumped lightly into the heater on the side of the wall and realized where they were headed. She stopped and pulled back from Sherlock, who stood breathing heavy, giving her a confused look. April pulled back further, taking one of Sherlock's hands and leading him back in the opposite direction, up the stairs to his flat. She had no desire to be watched with what she was about to do.

Sherlock didn't question the decision, he just followed, thankful for the first time that John had managed to find a day job.


	11. Why

April hated herself. She had sworn that this wouldn't happen again, and yet, she had been the one to lead Sherlock up the stairs, she had been the one to remove his shirt first. She lay curled up on Sherlock's chest wondering just how she had gotten there.

She ran a hand across Sherlock's pale abdomen as he stroked her naked back. What was it about Sherlock that made her keep coming back to him. She looked up at Sherlock who was staring at the ceiling lost in thought. He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he looked down at her. He didn't smile, he just looked. It made her happy, and she couldn't figure out why.

She pulled her eyes away from his and buried her face in his chest. April took in a deep breath, it smelled of sweat, and sex. April rolled over, out of Sherlock's arms and reached down to the floor, untangling her panties from a pile of clothes there. She sat up and pulled them on, looking around for the rest of her clothes. She pulled on her pants and her bra, before either of them spoke.

"John won't be back for hours." Sherlock said, sitting up.

"Neither will Charlie. I just need to use the bathroom." April said, pulling her shirt on. Sherlock nodded and watched as April left the room and went across the hall.

Sherlock got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown, and went to the kitchen. Having April here was not helping the loop of thoughts and questions in Sherlock's head. If anything it just added more. He put a kettle on and tried to sort through some of them, figuring out which were most likely to have answers.

Meanwhile in the bathroom April stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. Things would be so much easier if she was really dating Charlie. It was all she could think. Then she could feel shame, and hatred, and dirty and awful, and then she could give in tell Charlie and let it all fall apart. But this, whatever she had gotten herself into now, was just far too complicated. She had made up her mind to tell Charlie, it was a one time mistake that they could work with, but now, it had happened again, and April wasn't sure that it wouldn't happen another time. April took a breath and splashed some cold water on her face. She would figure out what to do later.

She walked out of the bathroom and poked her head into Sherlock's room expecting to see him still lounging in bed, but he wasn't there. She wandered out into the living room and found him placing a tray with two cups of tea down on the coffee table.

April walked over to him, "You made tea?" she asked. Every time they had been over to Sherlock and John's John made the tea, April wasn't even sure Sherlock knew how to make tea.

Sherlock said nothing and just handed her a cup. April took a sip. It was just how she liked it. April looked over at Sherlock who was standing, drinking his own cup of tea.

"Sherlock, " April said gaining his attention, "What are we doing?" she asked.

Sherlock put his cup down, and April copied. Sherlock thought about making a smart ass comment about how they were drinking tea, but he didn't. Instead he answered honestly. "I don't know."

April sighed and moved towards the window. "I meant it when I said I wouldn't leave Charlie."

"I know you did. I don't expect you to leave him." Sherlock said, not moving.

"Then why am I here?" April asked turning to him, "Why do we keep doing this?"

Hearing his own questions voiced, gave Sherlock the smallest bit of relief, knowing that he wasn't alone in his misery. "Why does anybody cheat?" was all he could think to respond with.

It was harsh, and April knew that had she actually been cheating she would have said something angry and vicious just to spite him, the man she was cheating with. Instead she thought about it. Why would she cheat on Charlie, he was so good, he cared about her, protected her, was always concerned about her she was the most important thing in his life. Suddenly it dawned on her, she wasn't the most important thing in Sherlock's life, he didn't protect her, he wasn't concerned about her. When she was with Sherlock, she wasn't the center of his world, she was a normal, cheating girlfriend.

"Because they need to." April said.

Sherlock walked over to April. "They need to?" he asked.

April nodded and put her arms around Sherlock's neck, bringing him in and kissing him soundly.

The next night Charlie took April out to dinner. They held hands, ate off each other's plates, and looked very much like a couple. Once they were home though, it was back to their usual friendly camaraderie. April sat in the living room waiting for Charlie to come out of the shower.

When Charlie did emerge April didn't immediately go into her bedroom. "Is something wrong?" Charlie asked, as he realized April was watching him.

April bit her lip, "Charlie, do you ever wish this was a real relationship?"

Charlie's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "April, you are my charge, that would be beyond inappropriate."

"No, no I don't mean that," April said shaking her head vigorously. "I just mean, do you ever wish you could be in a real relationship? With anyone, at all."

Charlie looked a bit relieved that April wasn't coming on to him, "April what brought this on?"

"We go around pretending to be a couple all day everyday, you can't tell me you don't miss the parts of a relationship that we don't have." April said gesturing to where she knew his special magazine stash was.

Charlie blushed, "Look April, your safety is the most important thing to me. I can forgo a few things if it means keeping you safe."

April smiled tightly. "I know, and I'm sorry you have to." April got up, placed a kiss on Charlie's cheek and went off to her bedroom, leaning on the door as she closed it behind her.


	12. Mycroft

Having an affair with Sherlock Holmes wasn't like having an affair with anyone else. It wasn't all stolen kisses and grazing of arms as they passed by each other. There were no smoldering glances or moments of desperate need. It was questioning glances and the sharing of cigarettes by open windows. Sherlock was April's escape from the eyes of the world. They only ever met in his apartment, Mrs. Hudson's, or in the entry way, the only places in all of England where there were no security cameras watching her every move.

Whatever it was she was doing with Sherlock, it was helping to keep April's head on her shoulders. For once she was having absolutely no trouble remembering any of the details of her story, it was all coming naturally to her, and the best part was that her nightmares had all but vanished. For the first time in a long time things were going well for April.

April smiled as she walked down the street, she was let off early from the office she was temping at for the day, and heading to catch the bus home. She was looking forward to the possibility of being alone with Sherlock for a few hours. It was rare that they go to be alone together for more than a few minutes, and she was intending to make the most of it.

She stopped for a moment to fix her hair in the reflection of a window when she saw the car drive up. It was black, shiny and stopped just ahead of her, the door opening seemingly of its own accord. Inside April began to panic, she knew the car was for her, but Mycroft never wanted to see her alone, never. She pulled back from the window and shakily walked to the car.

"Hello Ms. Wright."

"Mycroft."

April closed the door and the car began to move. April looked at him, he terrified her. It may have been because she knew just how much of the world he could control, but there was something about him that just screamed that he had the power to destroy someone. He could certainly destroy her.

They drove for a block or two before Mycroft spoke again. "Have you been enjoying your time in London?" He asked.

It wasn't a question April expected. "Yes, sir."

"I'm glad."

They were silent for a moment again. April wanted to ask him, what he wanted, to get all of whatever this was over with, but she was just too scared.

"You do seem to be flourishing here." He said eventually.

"Thank y…" she began only to be swiftly interrupted.

"It would be a shame if you had to leave." April's stomach dropped. "Especially seeing as Charlie would not be able to leave with you."

He was threatening her. April's voice shook as she spoke, "What do you mean?"

"We've spoken on this matter before. If we have to move you again Charlie will not go with you." Mycroft said, looking at her, trying to convey something that April just couldn't figure out.

"What have I done?" she asked.

"You know." Mycroft said. April lowered her gaze and tried to think of what she had done, but her brain wouldn't turn on. She couldn't think with Mycroft's steel gaze on her. She looked back up and shook her head. Mycroft sighed and reached into a bag that sat on the seat between them. He pulled out a file flipped through it before handing her several laminated pictures.

April nearly froze as she looked at the pictures in her hand. They were of her, this she had expected, what she had not expected was to see Sherlock in them as well. They were taken through windows, each one. The first few through the window of Mrs. Hudson's study, the next through the window on the door to 221 Baker Street, and the last few from either window in Sherlock's apartment. For a split second as she flipped through the photos April was glad that the windows in Sherlock's bedroom always had the shades drawn. She turned to the last photo and froze completely.

She knew now what Mycroft was talking about. Everything she had feared, everything she had tried to prevent was going to happen. She couldn't take her eyes off the photo of her peeling Sherlock's shirt off her hands on the back of his shoulders, his hands undoing the buttons of her shirt as they stumbled towards the bedroom.

"Of all the people you could have chosen…" the disapproval was obvious in his voice. "He's not likely to tell anyone, or be emotional about the ending of something like this, hopefully I don't have to tell you that you will end it." April didn't look up as Mycroft spoke.

"Why?" She already knew why, but she needed to ask it anyway, needed someone else to explain it to her, because all the explanations she had given herself meant nothing in the end.

"You know what my brother does for a living. If you think that he won't figure all of this out, then you are a fool, and when he does figure it out… well he is not the type to keep things to himself." Mycroft stared at her until April raised her head and met his eyes. "If your attachment with my brother does not end soon and end completely you will be moved and Charlie will be taken care of."

"You mean reassigned." April said correcting him, her stomach dropping down into her feat.

"Charlie knows everything about you and your case, even more than you do. Reassignment would be, unwise." It was the look in Mycroft's eyes that explained the statement to April.

If April did not end things with Sherlock, if she did not keep her cover, if she had to move even one door down, it would mean the end of Charlie's life.

The car stopped and Mycroft held out his hand for the photos. "I hope we have an understanding." He said.

April handed the photos over and nodded. "You've made everything perfectly clear."

"Good." Mycroft said as the driver opened April's door. She exited the car and came face to face with the door of 221 Baker Street. She heard the car pull away taking everything good in her life with it.

April felt as though she was underwater, the sounds around her dulling and the view in front of her becoming thick and unfocused. She walked into the building and shut the door behind her. She stood for a moment staring at the stairs that led up to 221B. Less than 30 minutes ago she had been so excited to climb those stairs, surprise Sherlock and loose herself in him for a few hours, but now?

For a second April thought about going up the stairs to end it now, because that was what was going to happen. She was going to end it, there was no question. And this time when she told Sherlock that it was over, that she couldn't leave Charlie, she wouldn't go back on her words, she couldn't, because if she did, it was far worse than a simple staged break up. Charlie would die, and she could not have that on her conscience.

April put her hand on the banister, ready to go up there, but her arm started to shake and for a moment she doubted her resolve. She couldn't mess up this time. She took her hand off the railing and went down to her own apartment. She couldn't see him now, she couldn't see him ever again. This ended now, Sherlock could figure it out on his own.


	13. Ill

Sherlock Holmes was by no means a sedentary man. He hardly ever sat still for more than a few minutes, needing constant stimulation to keep himself from going mad, but the current amount of pacing, foot tapping and general fiddling was a bit much, even for him. When for the 7th time that day Sherlock pulled apart his alarm clock and put it back together John felt he had to say something.

"Is everything alright?" John asked from behind his laptop.

Sherlock's head snapped up as if only just realizing that John was in the room at all. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"You just seem… off is all" John said

"Off? Off how?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged. "Just off." The look Sherlock shot him told John that his answer was far from satisfactory. "Anxious perhaps?"

"What on earth would I be anxious about?"

John sighed heavily. "I don't know, look just forget I asked anything." He said breaking his gaze from his testy flatmate and going back to his work.

Sherlock stared at John for a bit longer before he got up and went to pick up his violin. He needed to be alone to think, and he knew the moment he began to play John would go to his room for some quite while he worked.

Sure enough Sherlock hadn't even finished the third measure when John closed his laptop and went up to his room.

Sherlock was anxious, but it was not over something he was willing or able to share with John. Sherlock had not seen or heard from April in almost two weeks. In the three months since they had begun their affair this was the longest they had gone without seeing each other. It wasn't as though they saw each other every day, but they usually managed to find themselves alone once or twice a week, often at one of Mrs. Hudson's dinners. Sherlock had almost begun to worry about April after she did not come to the apartment on John's double shift day. It had fallen on the same day as Charlie's day to close. It was a day they knew they would have a significant amount of time together and they had planned for her to come up as soon as she had gotten back from work, but she had never showed. John had been the first and only person to walk through the doorway that day, and as he did he mentioned coming home at the same time as April, explaining away her absence. But then she had also missed Mrs. Hudson's dinner that week, apparently due to a work engagement, and then the entire weekend she been locked away in her apartment with Charlie, the entire next week Sherlock had begun to check for the mail and the paper several times a day, and he still hadn't managed to run into her. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that she was avoiding him, but she couldn't have been, could she?

Sherlock thought back to the last time he and April had managed to sneak away. He analyzed every word, every movement she had said or made, nothing he could find lead him to believe that she had been intending to end the affair, and if she was attempting to end things, there would have been some indication, somewhere in there. Yet when he looked back, her smile had been genuine, her words had been comfortable, and her kiss had been as passionate as always. None of these things spoke to a want to end things, and if that is what this was, an end to what they were doing, all April needed to do was say so. She had made it clear that in the end she would be with Charlie, which meant that there was an inevitable end to what they were doing, she simply needed to tell him when that was.

Sherlock paused his playing. April had told him they were done, several times in fact, usually just before grabbing him by his shirt collar and dragging him into a kiss, one that more often than not had led to other things that Sherlock had to admit he very much enjoyed. Maybe this really was the end, maybe this was how she was making sure that the end stuck, by cutting him entirely out of her life.

Sherlock put his violin back in his case and headed to the kitchen, he no longer wanted to think about this, he must have had some experiment that could use his attention.

Sherlock managed to lose himself in a few specimens for the rest of the day until John came down from his room to remind Sherlock they were due for dinner at Mrs. Hudson's.

Sherlock sent John ahead promising that he would soon follow, wanting to clean up the bits of brain matter he had on the counter. As he cleaned the thoughts that he had so successfully been avoiding began to creep back into his mind. He had to speak with April, and soon. Thankfully she was also meant to be at Mrs. Hudson's that evening, so he wouldn't have to wait long. Sherlock quickly finished cleaning and hurried up to dinner so that he could get this over with.

Opening the door to Mrs. Hudson's Sherlock found John and Charlie in their usual places, and he could hear Mrs. Hudson in the other room, putting the finishing touches on whatever it was she was making, but there was no sign of April.

"There you are Sherlock dear," Mrs. Hudson said, popping her head in from the other room. "You're just in time, everything is ready. Come on now, everybody in."

John and Charlie got up and the three men followed Mrs. Hudson into the other room, Charlie quickly greeting Sherlock as he went. They sat down and began to pass around the serving dishes, and the usual small talk began.

Charlie was telling them all about a client of his that he and April had run into out in town earlier that week, when Sherlock finally found his opening to ask the question he had been dying to ask all night.

"Where is April tonight?" he asked.

Charlie had to take a moment to finish chewing a bite of food before answering. "She wasn't feeling too well. Thinks she might be coming down with the flu."

"Oh the poor dear." Mrs. Hudson chimed in, "I'll bring her down some soup later, shall I?"

"That would be lovely Mrs. Hudson, thank you." Charlie smiled to her.

Sherlock did not pay much attention to the rest of the dinner conversation, and did not mill about long once the meal was finished. He stayed long enough so as not to be rude and then quickly left. He spent the rest of his night laying in his room playing his violin, trying to drown out the words in his head.

John left early the next morning for work, leaving Sherlock alone in the apartment. Sherlock was quickly becoming more frustrated with himself as his own thoughts would not leave him alone. He had tried everything he knew to distract himself. He had even called Lestrade to see if he had anything he needed help with. He had in a final attempt gone down to the morgue to see if Molly had anything new for him, though he hadn't held much hope for that as he had been there only a few days before.

Sherlock groaned as he entered his building, feeling quite agitated, at coming home empty handed.

"That you Sherlock dear?"

Sherlock's head snapped up at Mrs. Hudson's voice. "Yes Mrs. Hudson" He noted that she had a tray with a covered bowl on it balanced on one arm. He stepped toward her. "What do you have there?"

"Oh just a bit of soup for poor April, she still isn't feeling well today." She informed him, scrounging in her pocket, he assumed for the keys to April's apartment.

Sherlock felt his eyebrow twitch upward. This could very easily be his chance to have the conversation he had been hoping to have the night before. The one that he very much hoped would clear his head. "Why don't you let me bring that down for you." Sherlock asked taking the tray from her so that she couldn't argue. "We wouldn't want you getting sick as well now would we?" he said kindly.

"Oh thank you dear." Mrs. Hudson said, taking her key out of her pocket and opening the door for him. She quickly informed him that April was expecting the meal, and that he was to place it on the table in the living room. Sherlock nodded and made his way down the stairs, balancing the tray in his hands.

Sherlock had not been in 221 C since April and Charlie had moved in. It looked much nicer than the last time he had been in it. Mrs. Hudson must have had it professionally cleaned before renting it out, he thought before placing the tray in the spot he had been told too. He looked around and took in the living room, it was tidy and very modern. There wasn't much in it; a couch, a small tv, and a set of table and chairs. There was a book case and a floor lamp as well. There were very few personal touches in the place, which surprised Sherlock. He had always imagined that April and Charlie would have pictures of family and friends in large quantities, perhaps even one of those walls dedicated to picture frames he had seen in other people's homes. His analysis of the room was stopped when he heard a door opening.

"Mrs. Hudson is that you?" April said as she stepped through the door. She had a robe on and her hair was thrown up I a messy bun. She was paler than usual and looked tired, it looked as though her diagnosis of the flu may not have been too far off. She stopped in her tracks when she saw that it was not Mrs. Hudson in her home.

"No, I am decidedly not Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said.

"I see that. What are you doing here?" April asked. She looked unnerved at Sherlock being there, as she crossed her arms and stood still in the door way.

"I've brought you some soup." He said gesturing toward the tray he had brought. April's eyebrow raised, but moved toward the table. "Mrs. Hudson made it."

"Thank you." She said lifting the cover off the bowl and inspecting the soup. They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment that was only broken when April coughed.

"You should try running a hot shower, the steam will help with the congestion." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, thanks I'll try that later."

April clearly wasn't comfortable with Sherlock being there, in the home she shared with Charlie. It felt wrong to Sherlock as well, but he had needed to speak with her. Now that he was standing here in front of her though, he wasn't sure how to go about bringing up the subject he wanted to speak about.

April coughed again, this time a bit more violently.

"Have you taken anything yet? John tends to keep a supply of various medicines I could get you something if you'd like" He said, almost finding himself rambling.

"Thanks, but Charlie went and picked me up some things yesterday. I'm all set."

"Good," Sherlock nodded.

"Yeah, well thank you for stopping by and bringing the soup," April said and began walking past Sherlock toward the door, presumably to show him out. Sherlock reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Is there something else you needed?" April said, shaking Sherlock's hand from her arm and taking a step back.

Sherlock noted it was a movement made out of fear. He quickly placed his hands in his pockets, he hadn't meant to frighten her. Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally spoke. "How've you been?" he finally asked.

April let out a small sardonic chuckle, "Sick."

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You've been sick no more than a few days, it has been significantly longer since we've seen each other." He watched as April bit her lip and looked away.

"I've been fine."

"Busy I expect." April was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as time passed, it led him to believe that he had been correct in thinking that April's recent absence had been on purpose. Having come to that conclusion he normally would have assumed he was correct and simply left April alone, but something in the back of his mind was still nagging him and he was hoping that a verbal confirmation of the facts would silence it.

"Yes." April said. He could tell that she knew what he was getting at, but he couldn't figure out why she was still avoiding saying anything. Sherlock had been using all of his tact, but obviously the direct approach he had been avoiding was the only thing that would work.

"You've been avoiding me." Sherlock said, bluntly.

April sighed, "You should go." She said walking back towards the door.

"April…"

"Sherlock, please, just go." She said as she opened the door at the top of the stairs. Slowly and without another word Sherlock followed her path up the stairs to the door. The hallway was narrow and when he reached the top he had to nearly press against April, to get through the door. Knowing that this was likely the last time he would be this close to April, Sherlock leant in to kiss her on the cheek, but just before he made contact, she moved her head away from him and walked back down the stairs. Sherlock stared after April for only a moment before he left her apartment closing the door behind him.


	14. Over

April heard the door to her apartment close, and she let out the breath she had been holding since she had seen Sherlock standing in her living room. She silently hoped that what happened would be enough to let Mycroft know that whatever she had been doing with Sherlock was over, and that she was alright to stay.

April walked over to the tray that Sherlock had brought down, though she had been starving earlier, she now found that she had no appetite and the smell of the soup was actually turning her stomach a bit. She took the bowl and poured its contents down the drain, that way when Mrs. Hudson came down to collect it later she wouldn't fuss over how April wasn't eating.

April washed out the dish and went over to the couch. She sat down and brought her knees up into her chest. Sherlock hadn't been wrong, she had been actively avoiding him. Though Mycroft had not said that she needed to stay away from Sherlock entirely, she had felt it the safest option and seeing him today had proved that.

After months of sneaking away and losing herself in Sherlock, being alone with her reality had hit April hard. She felt guilty, sad and angry every time she was with Charlie and when she was alone it was even worse. She thought too much. The worst of it though was the eyes she felt on her all the time. She had always known that she was constantly monitored, but since her car ride with Mycroft she could really feel them. She never felt at peace, not for a moment, and it gnawed away at her. It was at its worse when she was home. She could barely sleep with the weight of those eyes beating down on her.

Between her lack of sleep, her emotional state and the excess hours she was taking on at work just to stay away, it was no wonder she had gotten sick. All week she had been exhausted, stuffed up and achy, but she had finally been feeling better until Sherlock had showed up.

April grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. She didn't want to think right now. She already had a headache and the thoughts that seeing Sherlock had brought up did nothing but exacerbate it. She sat that exact position, staring through the television, never really seeing what was on, until Charlie came home.

"Hey, you feeling any better?" he asked as soon as he walked through the door.

For the first time in hours April looked up, "Not really" she told him feeling the crick in her neck that had formed. She stretched her stiff legs out on the couch and rubbed her neck.

Charlie took a moment to put his things down before he headed over to her and put a hand on her head. "Well it looks like your fever is down a bit. You want some tea?"

"Sure, thanks." April said as he turned and walked to the kitchen. April immediately wanted to curl back up into her previous position. Every time Charlie was nice to her it hurt her.

"Mrs. Hudson stop by?" Charlie asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah." April lied, "she brought me some soup."

"That was nice of her. Shame you didn't eat it." He said bringing her out her cup of tea.

"What are you talking about?" April asked. "Of course I ate it."

"You cleaned the bowl" Charlie told her as he lifted her legs to sit underneath them. "You only clean your dishes when you don't want someone to know you didn't eat their food."

"That's not true!" April said, offended.

Charlie just laughed, "Yes it is."

April rolled her eyes and sipped her tea. Charlie began to massage her feet, and April tried not to wince. She couldn't help but think how close she'd been to destroying all of this. How close she came to waking up to a day without Charlie there. It wasn't a thought she could bear.

She sat with Charlie until she had finished her tea. When she was done she made the excuse of being tired to go to her room and curl back up.

"I'll wake you up for dinner." Charlie told her as she walked away. Her only response was to nod.

Later when Charlie knocked on the door to wake her, she ignored the sound, and when he opened the door to check in on her she laid perfectly still and let him think she was sleeping. She never slept, just laid there trying to keep her mind empty, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach.

The next few days of her recovery were spent much the same. She would wake up late, take a hot shower, and sit in front of the television until Charlie came home. He would make her a cup of tea, then she would go for a nap. Some days she would pretend to sleep when Charlie came to get her for dinner, others she would sit and play with the food he made for her.

It was obvious that she wasn't eating much, Charlie had mentioned his worry over it to her a few times, but she had simply told him her stomach wasn't doing well, and he had for the most part accepted it. But when she had recovered from her illness her appetite remained nonexistent. For a few days she sat and felt Charlie giving her worried looks, watched him put a little more on her plate, hoping she'd eat more. It was another pair of eyes watching, judging her and she couldn't take it. So when Charlie came home she made it a point to eat. She had a biscuit with her tea, she cleaned her plate, and she felt sick each time, but it made Charlie feel better and April felt she owed him at least that.

In total April had missed three of Mrs. Hudson's dinners. One for extra shifts at work, the other two related to her illness. To be honest she was not looking forward to returning to the weekly meals that Mrs. Hudson all but demanded. In fact she had tried the entire week to find a valid excuse not to come, but so far her attempts had all been in vain. She had been over her sickness for a long time now, no one needed her to take their shifts, and every one she knew outside of Baker Street already had plans for their Friday evening meal. April was going to have to go to the dinner.

That evening's dinner would be the first time she would see Sherlock since he had been at her apartment two weeks earlier, making it almost an entire month since she had ended their affair. The mere thought of seeing him again threw her stomach into knots. She desperately wanted to run to the bathroom and empty her stomach, but Charlie was in there getting ready, so instead she popped a mint, hoping that would settle her.

When Charlie came out of the bathroom they headed upstairs. April tried not to shake as he knocked on the door. It opened quickly and they were warmly greeted by Mrs. Hudson, who gushed over having April back at their "family meals". April did her best to ignore Mrs. Hudson's overt enthusiasm.

April and Charlie had not been the first to arrive. Sherlock and John sat in Mrs. Hudson's arm chairs, deep in discussion, much the way they had on the first night they had all met. The discussion broke momentarily as John greeted them, and Sherlock nodded in their direction. Charlie went over to join the discussion between John and Sherlock. He hadn't been over there long before Sherlock excused himself into the other room. April desperately wanted to follow him if only to bum a smoke to calm her over exposed nerves, but she knew what that would look like to anyone with a camera so she sat down on the arm of the chair Charlie had sat in and pretended to be interested in what the two men were saying.


	15. Window

Sherlock stood by the window in Mrs. Hudson's study slowly dragging on a cigarette. A part of him had hoped he would not be there alone, but as his cigarette burned down so that there was almost nothing left except for the filter he knew it was a foolish hope. April had made it very clear the last time they had seen each other that it was officially over and done with. He would be seeing no more of her than necessary. He should have been fine with this. Every rational part of his mind was screaming at him to forget this girl and move on with his life. They had a fling and it ran its course, it had come to its conclusion as he knew it would, but somehow it still felt unfinished and he couldn't shake it.

When his cigarette was finished and he could no longer delay, Sherlock returned to the others. Seeing April perched on Charlie's arm chair, her hand on his shoulder, made his stomach drop. He ignored the feeling though and took an empty seat. He didn't need to wait long before Mrs. Hudson called them all in for their meal. The dinner was far more normal than Sherlock would have liked it to be. He kept hoping to see some sort of discomfort from April, but if there was any she was hiding it well.

"Will you be going home for the holidays dears? Sherlock and John always stay."

Sherlock had been drifting in and out of the conversation going on around him, but this question caught his attention.

"No, we'll be here for the holidays" Charlie answered, giving April a quick glance to confirm.

"Oh, well you'll have to come to our party then." John said before bringing another bite of food to his mouth. Sherlock wanted to kick John for handing out the invitation. He hated the annual holiday party John held enough without adding everything he was going through in relation to April into the mix. But John didn't know about Sherlock and April so Sherlock kept his foot where it was and simply nodded in agreement with his flat mate, that their neighbors should attend the party.

"That would be great." Again it was Charlie who answered for the couple.

Mrs. Hudson began to gush at the thought of the annual Holmes/ Watson Holiday party now including her second set of boarders, and Sherlock tried to ignore it.

Sherlock had hoped that once the dinner was over and they had all gone home, that he could finally get a moment of reprieve but it was not to be. John had apparently been in a more personable mood and had invited Charlie and April back to their place for drinks. April, had thankfully declined, however John and Charlie were now parked in their sitting room, talking loudly and laughing, meaning that Sherlock was either confined to his room or forced to interact with them. Neither of these options were particularly appealing.

After pacing his room for as long as he could stand Sherlock threw on his coat, made a flimsy excuse and left the apartment, if only to get some air. He made quick work of the stairs and nearly bolted out the door. Once outside Sherlock abruptly stopped and took a deep breath. Expecting to get a lung full of fresh air Sherlock found himself coughing as smoke entered along with it. Turning his head to see where the smoke was coming from Sherlock felt the need to growl in frustration as he saw April standing just off to the side, jacket pulled tight around her, a half-finished cigarette hanging from her lips.

He watched as she brought her hand up to her mouth, removed the cigarette and blew out another puff of smoke. He had meant to leave in the opposite direction, but he hadn't been quick enough. She had turned her head to look around and immediately they locked eyes.

April wasn't as covert about her annoyance at seeing Sherlock. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Of course it's you." She mumbled to herself, but Sherlock heard.

"You would prefer Charlie to catch you smoking out here." He responded.

April didn't say anything, she simply looked away. All Sherlock had to do was continue off in the other direction. April did not try to engage him in conversation, it would have been so easy to go on the walk he had planned to take, but the annoyance that had shown through in April's voice hit a small nerve.

What right did April have to be annoyed? He had done nothing wrong. He had not attempted to contact her since their last meeting. He had not expressed any sort of emotion about their ending. He had let her tell him they were over and he had stepped aside. The only thing he was guilty of was walking out of their building while she was already outside. Sherlock could feel his annoyance begin to turn into anger as those thoughts built up in his mind and before he could stop himself he felt the words leaving his mouth.

"What the hell is your problem?"

April turned to him, her eyes wide, looking as shocked at Sherlock's actions as he felt. "Excuse me?" April said taking the cigarette out of her mouth and moving it down to hang at her side.

_'Well'_ Sherlock thought, _'might as well go all in.' _"What is your sudden problem with me?"

Sherlock paused to wait for an answer but April's face still showed confusion and she didn't even make an attempt to speak, so he continued. "_You_ said we were done and we are. I haven't seen you, spoken to you, I haven't even asked about you to anyone, so why could you possibly be angry with me?"

April looked around as though checking to make sure no one could hear them, even though the street was entirely empty. When she seemed sure that no one had heard she quickly tossed her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out before moving toward the door to their building. "I'm not doing this", she said as she moved to pass Sherlock.

Sherlock's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, "Yes you are." He hissed. "What is it?!" He felt April tense up, horribly. Sherlock looked directly into April's eyes and for the first time that night, really truly looked at her. There were enormous, dark bags under her eyes, her cheeks looked as though they were starting to hollow a bit. He could feel that her arm had thinned where he was holding it near her elbow, he wasn't holding her hard, but he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised. She looked sick, even though they had been told she was fully recovered. Sherlock loosened his grip and softened his voice. "April, what is going on?"

April easily shook Sherlock's hand off and wrapped both her arms around herself. "I'm going inside." Was all she said before doing exactly that.

Sherlock stood staring at the door for a few moments after April went inside. How had he missed how bad she had looked at dinner? Had he really been that distracted by analyzing her actions with Charlie that he had missed the blindly obvious physical clues as to her well being? And what's more, had no one else noticed how terrible she looked, thin, weak and exhausted? He was worried but he knew he couldn't go after her, not now, so Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and slowly trudged off down the street.


End file.
